Chapter 17: A Reluctant Patient

The next day, after a good night’s sleep, Su Zhuozhi looked much better. His forehead and palms were no longer burning to the touch.

The physician came again to take his pulse. He pronounced that there was only a slight fever remaining, and that he should recover fully in three to five days.

Su Zhuozhi blinked, then said smugly, “I told you I’d be fine after a night’s sleep. You just wouldn’t believe me.”

Madam Su exchanged a glance with her eldest son. They smiled, but said nothing of the nightmares he’d had—how he’d whimpered and talked in his sleep all night.

Having caught a chill, it was naturally impossible for him to attend the Imperial Academy. Su Huailang had requested leave on his behalf.

Being ill was terrible. But not having to go to school? That was certainly cause for celebration.

Su Zhuozhi hummed a cheerful tune. Qingping brought his breakfast over and set up a small table on the bed. He ate sitting up in bed, without having to walk anywhere—fully embracing the lazy, idle life. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Worried that he might be bored during his illness, both Qingping and Wanying had brought him a variety of things: amusing storybooks, the latest trinkets popular in the capital, the parrot’s cage that usually hung in the corridor, and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

When Wanying saw that the poppies in the garden were in full bloom, she was struck by an idea. She plucked a few and brought them inside, hoping that the sight of the beautiful flowers would lift the young master’s spirits.

Su Zhuozhi was indeed pleased. He took the flowers with interest and held them in his hands—delicate and brimming with color.

A dewdrop slid off a petal and landed on the back of his hand. He casually wiped it away with his thumb.

It was a careless gesture, but Xie Jue found himself unable to look away.

Su Zhuozhi held a bouquet of poppies, his eyelashes lowered, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned—a languid, carefree posture. His face, still faintly flushed from illness, was so close to the vibrant flowers, yet they did not overshadow him. On the contrary, his skin seemed even fairer than snow, and he appeared more beautiful than the blossoms themselves.

After a moment, Su Zhuozhi handed the flowers to Wanying. He told her to find a vase, put them in water, and place them on the chest by the bedside—a pleasant sight to look at.

It wasn’t until Wanying walked away with the flowers that Xie Jue snapped out of his reverie.

“Ah, that reminds me!” Qingping suddenly recalled something. He hurriedly said, “Young Master, that person you saved at Qiqu Mountain last time woke up the very next day. Before he left, he wanted to thank you personally, but you weren’t around. So he asked me to give you a thank-you gift.”

With that, Qingping presented two thin sheets of paper.

Su Zhuozhi took them curiously. “What’s written on here? The paper is also unusual—not like the common kind.”

He pinched it and rubbed it gently. It was somewhat rough, a quality he would never use himself. Yet the incomprehensible patterns on it gave him an inexplicable sense of familiarity. Maybe he had seen them in the study before? He decided to look for them next time he had the chance.

“Put them away for now.”

Though they were not valuable, they were a token of someone’s gratitude.

Su Zhuozhi had no idea what those two small sheets of paper were, but Xie Jue saw them clearly—the spiritual energy contained within. They were defensive talismans drawn by a righteous talisman master. When danger struck, they could block an attack without needing to channel spiritual power. Even an ordinary mortal could use them effectively.

If Su Zhuozhi had possessed such a talisman when he encountered that small demon in the palace, he could have bought himself time to escape.

Xie Jue couldn’t help but think: why hadn’t he learned to draw talismans himself? Then he wouldn’t have to rely on someone else’s talismans to keep Su Zhuozhi safe.

He spoke up, “Young Master, you should carry these two talismans with you when you go out.”

Su Zhuozhi was startled. He hadn’t noticed Xie Jue was there at all. It felt as if he had materialized out of thin air.

“Why are you here?!”

Su Zhuozhi held grudges. He wouldn’t easily forgive Xie Jue. He didn’t want a servant who was disobedient and even bullied his master. He just wanted Xie Jue gone.

“I don’t want to see you. Get out,” Su Zhuozhi said, waving his hand dismissively.

Xie Jue stood rooted to the spot. He didn’t leave.

Seeing that the young master was about to fly into a rage again, Qingping quickly went over to persuade Xie Jue. He lowered his voice and said, “I know you forced him to drink the medicine for his own good, but he’s angry right now. Don’t be stubborn. Just keep out of sight for a few days. Once his temper cools, you can come back.”

Su Zhuozhi couldn’t hear what they were murmuring about. He said irritably, “Qingping, come here and read me a story. My eyes are tired from reading.”

Qingping responded with a “yes” and walked over quickly, not forgetting to shoot Xie Jue a meaningful look, signaling him to leave.

In the end, Xie Jue’s face cold as stone, he left the room. He even left the Su residence.

No one knew where he went.

But when he returned, his body was shrouded in a chilling aura, as if he had emerged from an ice cave.

It was the residual killing intent and demonic aura left after slaying demons to vent his anger.

The great demon in the palace was inconvenient to kill, so he slaughtered every minor demon lurking nearby.

A wide area around the Su residence became a vacuum zone. All the demons lurking in the capital learned that there was a madman there—and they’d better not get too close, or they wouldn’t know how they died.

Halfway through his slaughter, Xie Jue suddenly stopped. The minor demon beneath his sword, having narrowly escaped death, slumped to the ground, not understanding why the madman had stopped. But it was a stroke of luck.

Actually, the reason Xie Jue stopped was simple.

It was time for the young master to take his medicine.

In his mind now, Su Zhuozhi was almost like a fragile glass doll—unbelievably delicate. A simple cold could harm his body, leaving him weak and breathless. There was no reason for him to be willful and refuse his medicine.

The person he was watching over dying from a minor illness, rather than by his own hand—how absurd was that?

When Xie Jue entered the room, Su Zhuozhi was indeed resisting his medicine again. He stared at the bowl as if it were his mortal enemy.

When he saw Xie Jue’s figure, he instinctively tensed up. He felt that Xie Jue was about to force-feed him again, so he quickly hugged the bowl close and glared at him warily.

“Don’t you come any closer!”

Xie Jue stopped and said flatly, “If the young master obediently takes his medicine, I naturally won’t do anything.”

A threat. An absolute threat!

If Su Zhuozhi were a cat, he would definitely have all his fur standing on end, ears flattened, hissing and meowing.

But unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about Xie Jue. Xie Jue’s martial prowess was too high—even if all the servants in Yulantang fought together, they might not be able to stop him.

Or maybe, he could bribe him? After all, money makes the world go round, and Xie Jue seemed to be short on cash.

He was pondering this when he noticed Xie Jue taking a step forward again. Reluctantly, he held the bowl to his lips, held his breath, closed his eyes, and gulped it down in large mouthfuls.

After finally finishing, Su Zhuozhi leaned over the edge of the bed, coughing nonstop. His tongue felt so bitter he wished he could get rid of it.

He took a piece of candied fruit and shoved it into his mouth. His whole being was wilted, his dark eyes moist with tears, looking utterly pitiful.

Xie Jue hadn’t expected that drinking medicine would make him cry.

He was surprised, but then he thought, this was the young master—perhaps it wasn’t strange after all. Someone as delicate and fragile as Su Zhuozhi should be pampered for life, kept in a beautiful palace, sheltered from all storms.

Sensing his gaze, Su Zhuozhi met his eyes and knew that Xie Jue was mocking him for crying over bitter medicine. Furious, he grabbed the pillow beside him and threw it, cursing angrily, “Cry at your father!”

He was just teary-eyed because the medicine’s stench stung his eyes.

This time, Xie Jue didn’t react negatively to being cursed. Instead, he felt a little relieved. Su Zhuozhi having the energy to curse and throw tantrums was far more pleasing to the eye than lying weakly in bed.

He was in a good mood. But Su Zhuozhi wasn’t happy at all. The pillow and the storybook he had thrown missed entirely—Xie Jue caught them steadily.

Frustrated, Su Zhuozhi pulled the brocade quilt over himself and lay down with his back to the room, his whole figure radiating intense displeasure towards Xie Jue.

He shrunk under the covers, angrily gnawing on the candied fruit as if he were biting off Xie Jue’s dog head.

After lying there for a while, Su Zhuozhi suddenly sat up, his beautiful brows furrowed.

The quilt smelled strongly of Chinese medicine. He felt as if he had been steeped in it.

He couldn’t take it anymore. “I want to bathe,” he announced.

Qingping acknowledged and went out to prepare.

Su Zhuozhi shuffled to the edge of the bed, stretching his feet to find his shoes. Xie Jue stepped forward, picked up the shoes, and tried to put them on for him. But Su Zhuozhi refused, pushing him away with a disgusted expression.

“I’ll do it myself! I don’t need you!”

But perhaps because he had just recovered from a fever and had been lying in bed all day, his limbs were weak and unsteady. As soon as he pushed Xie Jue away, he nearly fell. Fortunately, Xie Jue was quick and caught him in time.

Even so, Su Zhuozhi pursed his lips tightly and refused to thank him. With a stiff face, he shook him off and insisted on walking alone to the bathing pool at the back of the courtyard.

Considering that the young master was still recovering from his illness and shouldn’t soak in a pool, Qingping had prepared a wooden tub. He advised Su Zhuozhi to take a quick wash first.

Su Zhuozhi agreed and walked behind the folding screen. Impatiently, he stripped off his outer robe, which reeked of medicine. As his clothes were halfway off, he seemed to sense something and turned to look, but saw nothing. He tilted his head in confusion, then continued to take off his pants.

Outside the door, Xie Jue’s jaw was tight, his expression strange. Even the tips of his ears were tinged with an abnormal redness.

Only one thought filled his mind.

…It was pink?

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